


Strange Magic Drabbles and Snippets

by glassminou



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassminou/pseuds/glassminou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>these are things I've posted to tumblr but I'm putting here for a more organized feel really. I'll put what au it is at the top of each if it applies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. land under wave no.1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the selkie au I've been mulling over for a while, and I thought I may as well try to get my thoughts out. Here is where Griselda meets the Selkie King in his human form, and they slowly get friendly.

When Griselda was a young woman with frizzy curls and a wide smiling mouth she met a strange youth out on the shore. He was an awkward yet compelling sort of lad and she immediately took to him. Took to teasing him to get a sweet and shy smile from him anyway. He would tell her stories about anything and everything and liked playing with her near untameable hair. Stories that everyone from the older generations knew more so than the younger. About the land under wave where the currents carried the light from above past coral and glass, to the streaming gold that glittered under the suns rays.  
Everyone knew where that gold came from, knew as well as anyone could without seeing it themselves. But young girls with golden hair were warned not to stray alone on the shores, not to talk to strange young men alone, to do nothing alone near the sea.  
Well, Griselda thought, I shouldn't need to worry with my frizzy red curls and while I might be tempted to call myself pretty it's surely not enough reason to change underwater decor.


	2. land under wave no.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things begin to come to a head, ultimately a Selkie King needs to take a blond haired bride to both be a valid ruler, and to renew certain magics below. And he can't stay because his magic would work against him and he would perish. So no happy endings for these two sadly.

Her mind was a shelter from the following days.

Looking back on it all she wasn’t sure if it had started when she had first met him or, as she suspected, when he had turned to her one evening. His curiously smooth face with its large, dark shining eyes taking her in. As if for the last time. Now Griselda wasn't having any of that, half the village would tell you that if she put her mind to something then that thing had already lost. She was going to make that the case here as well. He looked as if he had read her mind and there again was that sweet sad smile.

I’m sorry, he said.

Then whatever it is you are going to be sorry for don’t do it, simple as, she retorted with jaw firm and shoulders back.  
He reached out and curled a lock of her hair around his finger, face morose and beautiful and strange.  
You’ll marry someone else in the future, he stated. as if that was something he could predict or make happen. He will kill me, he murmured.  
She felt a cold calm come across her, is that so? She asked drawing herself up. So all this, all these walks and talks were for nothing. We felt nothing and we shall end as nothing. She could feel her voice becoming louder and more emotional but she felt as though she was far above, watching.  
He stopped playing with her hair and with a pause slowly reached for her hands. His hands are trembling, she thought, what has he to fear? This beautiful demon, this silvered devil?  
You know what I am, he said.  
Yes of course, she said bluntly.  
Then you know what I need to do, he replied with a pained face.

Griselda looked at him, really looked at him. He was slowly changing she noted, his eyes reflected the glimmering moon and his arms were as cold as the sea’s waves.  
She hadn’t realised she’d started to cry.  
Stay, she pleaded, please stay oh please.  
Stay with me for as long as you want me, because gods know I want you, my heart knew it wanted you before we even met it seems.  
He pressed his lips gently on her forehead, her wet eyelashes, her salt laced cheeks and chin.

I love you also, but I cannot stay and I can no longer take a bride. You have captured my heart without even ensnaring me through magic or guile. There is so much I cannot say nor have the words for.  
I can’t take a bride anymore, he gasped out.  
Then stay with me, Griselda pressed, stay with me in my little house with its low ceilings, let us be alone together laughing at nothing on the floors, leave the bedsheets smelling of sweet salt, stay with me.


	3. land under wave no.3

He held her close as she wept into his hair. This isn’t right, she cried. This isn’t fair!

Countless I knows, and numerous I’m sorrys one after the other. It wasn’t good enough, she wasn’t good enough. She didn’t have pretty golden hair so she couldn’t be his bride below. He couldn’t stay here or he would wither away without the sea’s tender embrace.

They stood for what seemed hours on the shore with its tears and bleached bones.

He had tried to give her a “gift” which she had adamantly refused even as he pressed.  
Throw your net into the sea and make sure to gut the fish you catch yourself he had said, and when you slit their bellies, instead of guts what will pour out are pearls. The most rare and perfect, with such colours you can’t see anywhere else.

His trembling was at last subsiding, perhaps he had lost the energy to console her. His last words to her haunted her still.

I’m so sorry.


	4. land under wave no.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a couple of years in the future, Griselda has indeed gotten married to a lovely young man, tall and gangly but solid and strong. She's as happy as she could be with him. Sadly all good things come to an end. Here she's pregnant and there have been more storms lately, the Selkie King is on the move and everyone knew of Griselda's dalliance with him and so come to the conclusion that he's coming to snatch her.

You could walk on the backs of salmon in ages past so bountiful they were. Those times came to an end because of mens greed, of over fishing and not showing the proper respect to the sea’s custodian.

Fishermen who hunted seals and selkies were in turn hunted by the great selkie, for he conjured up storms and fierce winds to snatch them up and throw them to the sea. There he captured their souls and locked them in cages formed of glistening amber.

That’s what he knew, what they’d all been told from childhood. beware the Selkie King. And now here he was trying to snatch Griselda, his wife, his everything. He might not have magic but damnit all to hell he refused to give up.

They had moved to the mainland as a last resort, crucifixes above every door and window, iron and steel. Griselda felt like she was in some dream, shrouded on all sides by ghosts that moved against her like gentle waves dappling the shore.   
Then suddenly the warm weight of her husband, her rock and anchor. Please, he said. Please stay with me, stay stay stay. He held her so tight and close, face buried in her hair as though she would turn to smoke in his arms.  
Her heart felt like a heap of ash, still searing and sickening, yet light enough to fly away with the grey wings of the gulls.

He had gone to the witch woman, as the locals called her whenever they felt slightly more bitter than usual.   
She was a slight thing, with long hair done up with jewelled pins and smooth skin. She was supposedly very old but there was not a wrinkle in sight. Her small cottage was dark and smothering, he just had to save his wife, this was all for her. The witch had looked to him with an annoyed expression. 

You want me to go against the king of the selkies? Are you mad? Suicidal perhaps? I can do nothing for you, leave now and don’t slam the door on your way out.  
He had fallen to his knees, hands clawing at the floor in desperation. The witch’s face peered down from her jewelled hair. 

Stop that, she said, as though he were an errant child. It’s no use and you know it, I’ve told you no.


	5. land under wave no.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The witch agrees to help. Unknown are her methods for this, perhaps it's best we don't know.

She was still watching him, collapsed and spasming on the darkwood floor.

And then she spoke.

You’re broken down and tired and yet… you’ll still fight for her won’t you? I can see it in you, the man who would move mountains and walk through waves to kill a Selkie King with naught but a shitty harpoon. 

Well, she sighed, what can I do but help you then. 

I will help you protect her, he won’t be able to take her and this I promise. All you need is hope and for that you have each other. And if not then you’ll have to hope enough for the both of you.

I won’t lie.

It will be painful for her till this passes, but in spite of the ache she must stay inside and with you, she must wait for the dawn and when it finally rises up it will all be over.


	6. land under wave no.6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> miscarriage warning

Griselda remembered her child, her poor mangled child, that she never got to meet.

She had heard the storm raging outside and felt ghostly fingers threading through her hair and pressed against her throat, suddenly the urge to be sick surged through her hot and fast. Stomach roiling and burning and her mouth was gaping out of her control when the smoke poured out. 

Up and up it rolled, agitated and angry. Oh god, she thought, I’m dying I’m dying I’m on fire and I’m dying.  
A golden fire rose and swept up through her hair, she could see the brilliant streams casting strange shadows on the walls and the inky blue of the dark being cast away.

How she had saw the strings of yellow and strands of neverending bloody pearls the terrified midwife had near dragged from her. 

That was when she had knew. Knew what had been done. She felt filled with blackened blood and surrounded by ghosts.  
Oh how she had raged and felt a war within herself. 

Her sorrow and grief seemed too big for her small body, their small cottage, her concerned and overwhelmed husband. The sea was her solace then despite the one who had afflicted her. She wanted to shine like lightning, roar like the thunder, cry like the rain. Anything to drown out his name, to stop the echo in her mind.  
It snatched her sadness from her and left her raw and scoured but free. Free from the weary torment.

She hoped he was as lonely as she was.


	7. land under wave no.7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final selkie drabble so far, I'm kinda tired since I'm not a writer but I've whined about that enough on tumblr.
> 
> So. This is like 30 or 40 years in the future.

She found him on the salt sick coast, beached like some whale, all pale and bloodied.  
He was draped over one of the larger rocks which was out of reach of the tide for now but that would change soon enough if she wasn’t quick. She skittered over the slippery stones to help him. She needed to inspect the damage and to see if he warranted medical attention or a burial.

 

And then she had saw it.  
Who could ever forget the sight of a selkie pelt.

She felt a cold calm come over her then.  
No, no no no. How dare he. After all this. After all this time. After you and I have found thousands of ways to hurt each other in memory and dreams you cannot come to me now.

Dawns pale light was washing over the wrecked and wretched beach and she could see then clearly his face. She didn’t remember falling to her knees then but there she was, tenderly with trembling hands holding the sunken face. She knew this face. The face of her husband. And the eyes of her selkie blearily blinking up at her. My son, she wept, I had a son.

What a gift.


	8. the last thoughts of the general of joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I posted this on tumblr this and it wouldn't let me go till I churned this out.  
> \----  
> In my headcanon for Marianne and Dawn's mother, I see her as fearless and brave, known as the general of joy more than the consort Magdalina (my name for her). Dawn has her brightness and love of life, Marianne her stubbornness and sense of justice.
> 
> The last Dagda saw of her was when she ran after a thief and flew after them out the palace windows. He still regrets not grabbing her and begging her to let it go, it was just some useless treasure.  
> He relives that moment when Marianne is flitting off after Dawn, and this time he’s quick enough to latch on. He can’t lose another loved one, not his daughter, not both of them in one night.

The late consort was said to have been chasing after a thief in a thunderstorm and was struck by lightning close to the border of the Alps and the Wastes where the weather was treacherous with the sudden shifts in altitude and temperature. The slippery, damp cliff faces of the Alps meeting with the arid heat of the Wastes led to sudden storms coming out of nowhere quick and merciless.

She had wore a sleeveless chainmail shirt and bells on her feet, her every movement a dance almost so full of grace was she. It left the kingdom in disbelief at the news. Their general of joy, gone. Even worse was seeing the state of the royal family, the youngest princess not understanding and questioning where her mother had gone to. When would she be back? And the eldest, standing stiff and straight, eyes brimming with desperate unshed tears, trying to be strong and brave, brave like her mother was, had always been. King Dagda was unconsolable, lapsing between grief over Magdalina and anger at himself and at the other kingdoms. How could the Dark Forest and The Alps not have seen her? Not one trace? Not one glimpse? Their reports of her ashen body being thrown to the earth had to be lies. If they were true, where was she? Untrustworthy and deceitful, how could he expect anything less from goblins, and the fey... they were out for themselves as usual. No.

His face glistened with hot tears. No this was a lesson. Keep to the borders, where it was safe, where they were safe. His daughters would never come to harm. Magdalina was bright and brilliant but even she could not overcome the dangers, and she was their best... had been their best, their shining star, their glimmer in the dark...

\-----

The sun set the fields ablaze in brilliant reds and shimmering golds, making it difficult to see the thief's shallow form against the brightness blocking her vision. Ahead though she could see the forest border rapidly approaching. She smiled triumphantly, she would snatch them there! The bracken and briar were no match for her quick wings!

She spotted the briars wrapping the bases of the trees, twisting and tangling. Thorns eternally barring the way to the less brave, but oh she was so very brave. She flitted between the vines and dark undergrowth, eyes keen for the intruder. How thick this wood is, she thought, a fantastic defence, and, she thought amusedly, a fantastic adventure for another day.

She could barely see the ground thick as it was with dark plants. So dark she thought, they seemed to absorb the little light there was in this forsaken place. Although...between the large black leaves there were pretty blue plants, scattered with tiny white buds and even tinier white flowers. And over there! A vast expanse of velvet blue flowers turned face up to the canopy. She flew fast and quick, dipping over the mosses and ferns, eyes sharp for any sign of... there! A flash of gold, the thief's filthy hands on the prize. How brazen they were to steal such a thing! Faster and faster she dove, oh they were good but not as good as she! At last they broke through the canopy border of the forest, the sudden incline of the misty Alps a startling sight. They had flown so far?  
She could see up, up and up to the drizzle and foggy crags and where the intruder awaited her no doubt. Well, she was mostly punctual, it would be rude to keep the crook waiting. Her hand found her sword and she shot up to the clouds.

Ever, ever upwards, was there no end? It was overcast here in patches, the sun struggling against the mountains. Then out of nowhere, blackness.

She faltered briefly, stunned, have I gone blind? An eclipse?

It was then it happened.

A flash of light, so bright and blinding! Everything coated in whiteness so stark it hurt it hurt it hurts! She felt stripped bare to the wind to the sky. Every weakness on display ready to be struck down. She felt so cold, frosted from toe to tip. What is this, she thought dazedly, what's happened. All at once the sky cleared and she could dizzily see that the sun was fading, painting the wastes to the south lurid purples and reds in the dips of the sands. The sudden ominous blackness was receding to the sunset once more, the storm rolling past to the distant wastes. Through the haze of pain she felt like the lurid sky was tearing her apart. 

Memories flitted through her, so many all at once. Her brave deeds, her stupid and daring ones. How she had once flew through rain heedless of the danger to her wings, weaving in and out like a petal on the breeze so easily it seemed then. It wasn't without its own pain, each glance of a droplet had seared cold then. Through each sheet of rain she had surged through the ache, to be by her lover's side, her Dagda.

Is it the cold rain I feel or is it your caress my love? Her addled thoughts were sweeping through every cranny it seemed.  
Another memory, bittersweet now, of her glorious fields. Every blade of grass a springboard to the sky, every sweet flower's face upturned and open ready to embrace her. The air's every kiss a sigh against her wings.

She knew deep down then.

Please give me the strength to go on, please please!

A desperate plea to no-one but the sky.

 

Her sight was failing her, dimness edging in, her hope turning to ashes in her mouth.  
Gods, to even breathe is pain!

So this is how I pass, she thought hazily. Heaven must be an iron rose, hanging her head in shame at such a defeat.  
Is my story done? Is it all over like this? A queen struck down by lightning? A general of joy left full of sorrow? Images of her daughters flashed before her, oh my sweet darlings, she cried. My little furies, my heart bleeds for you. 

For you I would crawl in this wretched darkness, I cannot die and yet... I am... the one thought untouchable undone by a mere flash of light.  
Let my voice echo then! Let my my voice be the one you hear in the night, on the wind! The one that will not die! Never! Let it follow the rootless moon lighting the way home, to you my loves. My daughters... with or without the sun, I will be with you.

 

And then she fell.


End file.
